


Morning Mischief

by EbethBeatlebub



Series: Starrison Ficlets [3]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Play Fighting, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbethBeatlebub/pseuds/EbethBeatlebub
Summary: Snowed in on the first miserably cold morning of their vacation, George and Ringo find something else to do. Toast, tea, and blanket cocoon shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Series: Starrison Ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006020
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Morning Mischief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blobfish_miffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blobfish_miffy/gifts).



"Either someone's painted the windows white overnight," George muttered tiredly, with squinted eyes "or we're snowed in," 

Ringo, wrapped in a bathrobe, a blanket, and three pairs of socks came shuffling out of the corridor, only his nose and eyes visible. He'd lit up the fireplace but it wasn't quite helping yet. 

" _I_ coulda told you that with me _eyes_ shut," he joked, muffled through the fabric. George turned to smirk at the poor thing. It _was_ damn cold. He'd love nothing more than to worm his way into that snugly looking cocoon, but a slowly rising whistling sound from the kitchen was calling him. 

"C'mere, love, have a seat," he said, moving over to make room on the sofa. Ringo slowly made his way there, stiffly plopping into position, the layers of fabric being too thick for him to bend properly. 

"Popped the kettle on, have ye?" he asked, hearing it go off louder now. George leaned down to kiss his nose. 

"Aye, I'll be back in a mo," he smiled, then jokingly added, " _Don't go anywhere_ ," 

Ringo fake laughed in response, rolling his eyes, then watched George as he left. (Mainly his cute, bony little arse). They'd hoped to do some skiing and sightseeing and whatnot on their trip here to Switzerland for the week, but it wasn't exactly off to a good start. Bad flight, got in too late last night, and now a snow in? Pity, really, since they got so little time off work. He scooted to the far end of the sofa, wiggling with difficulty as he went. With a brave hand he reached out into the chilly air to turn on the radio in the hopes of a forecast.

" _Damn_..." he muttered, trying to make out a single word, "all in German...,"

Sighing he braved the cold again to turn the dial to another station...any old station would do. 

_"-got a ticket to ride, she's got a ticket to ri-i-ide-"_

He chucked at the coincidence. Feels like just last year they were filming those silly alps scenes for Help! (Actually, given that it's now 1966, they _were_ here last year. Huh). He turned down the volume, and by the time he'd tucked his hand back into the cocoon, George had arrived back with tea. Set down the tray, cups steaming and some toast on the side. Of course it wouldn't be _George_ if half the toast wasn't already eaten by the time he'd got out of the kitchen, but never mind. He stoked the fireplace a bit, then sat down by him and smirked, "Funny music on the radio these days, eh?" 

Ringo chuckled, then eyed the tea and toast longingly. God he didn't want to stick his hands out again. George watched with amusement as his poor, freezing lover had an internal battle between his hunger and his body temperature. At last, knowing that it'd be cold by now, George picked up the toast and left the room. 

"What's that for?" Ringo mumbled, breaking out of his inner turmoil. He didn't get a response. Once back, however, George sat down next to him again with new toast. He pulled down the layers of fabric covering Ringo's mouth. 

"Alright, open up, ye daft sod," he smiled, holding the toast up for him. A bit embarrassed, but endeared all the same he complied, opening his mouth and leaning in to take a bite. He tried not to laugh as he chewed, but George had this funny look on his face like _he_ was holding it back too. He tried to make it through the next bite. Then, George lifted up the still warm mug of tea and held it to Ringo's lips. He composed himself enough to take a sip without snorting it out his nose, but _with difficulty_. 

"Yer makin' me regret bein' romantic," George pretended to scowl, which only served to cause more chuckles. Ringo couldn't even look at him any more. Then when he went in for the third bite of toast, George pulled it away at the last second. Ringo looked at him suspiciously, fighting back a dumb smile. He leaned in to take a bite again, but George kept slowly pulling it further and further back towards himself, his own laughter getting harder as Ringo continued to try and reach. 

The poor drummer fell forward onto the pesky guitarist, the toast flying out of his hands, and the two men rolled to the floor. George wrestled with him, trying to pry open the cocoon, wanting to get in with him, but Ringo kept clutching it tighter. 

"Aw come on, love, lemme in," he wheezed through the laughter. 

"No!" the other cried dramatically, "Revenge for me fallen toast, you rotten bastard!" he wiggled on top of George trying to be as heavy as possible, pinning him down to the ground. 

George heaved with all his might though and managed to roll them over. On top now, he used the momentary lapse of guard to strip away a layer, the blanket over the top of the robe. Ringo yelped at the sudden cold, but it was replaced with a warm body soon after. Tired from the laughter and wrestling, he simply wrapped his arms around his lanky lover, taking the blanket and trapping them both in it. 

He smirked up at him, "Happy now?" 

George grinned a wicked grin and touched their noses together, " _Almost,_ " 

He tilted his head and pressed their lips together. 

"Now I am," he said softly, before leaning in for another. 


End file.
